Monthly Archives: October 2011
Perry, a top-tier Republican presidential candidate, said that current recipients shouldn’t worry about his reform plans. “If you’re on it or approaching it,” Perry said, your Social Security benefits wouldn’t change. But for others, he said, “give them a private account or whatever it is.”
Or whatever it is.
Think about that for a minute.
The man’s answer to a steaming hot button question utters things like “whatever it is” when asked about his new plan for Social Security.
This is common for Republicans; even they don’t know what they stand for. They’re all so desperate now that they will say any code as long as they think it will tighten the grip on “the base”, meaning the uninformed jackasses they call potential GOP voters. I think Jon Stewart said it just right, all Romney has to do is shut up and cede most of his time to the other bozos on the dais in the coming debates and this baby is a lock for him.
Update: I think those rumors about Perry being gay are for real; look at these speech clips. I don’t have the strongest gaydar, but I’m going to hazard a guess that he is a closet case. I personally don’t care; it’s his fucked up “policy” that enrages me, not the color of his fuzzy slippers. If he is (and I believe he is) a values conservative, then a double pox on his political house.
Which is strong, because I hate all of them for the most part. But Herman Cain, the clown prince of the week, has this to say about OWS protestors:
“I don’t have facts to back this up, but I happen to believe that these demonstrations are planned and orchestrated to distract from the failed policies of the Obama administration. Don’t blame Wall Street, don’t blame the big banks, if you don’t have a job and you’re not rich, blame yourself! … It is not a person’s fault if they succeeded, it is a person’s fault if they failed.”
You never have the facts to back anything up, you fucking cocksucker. How does he know what it’s like vying for a job where ten other applicants are being looked at? How dare you say it is someone’s fault that they are not rich when there are are so many roadblocks to prosperity in certain regions of the country? What do you know? You are not just a fucking asshole, you are cruel.
Fuck you, Cain and your toothy smile. I’ve seen your fucked up commercials, sat through your misstatements, and your elitism. I cannot believe this guy is in the running for president. What does that say about us?
I thought I was finished writing about and off Herman Cain as a real candidate for the Presidency. I am wrong:
In an interview with CBN’s David Brody, Cain responded thusly to a pro-life question:
Brody: Are you for some sort of pro-life amendment to the Constitution that in essence would trump Roe v. Wade?
Cain: Yes. Yes I feel that strongly about it. If we can get the necessary support and it comes to my desk I’ll sign it. That’s all I can do. I will sign it.
Just so we are clear that Mitt Romney will say anything to get elected, here’s this:
As several leading Republican presidential candidates embrace a flat tax as a core campaign position, one contender stands out in not doing so: Mitt Romney, who has a long record of criticizing such plans and famously derided Steve Forbes’s 1996 proposal as a “tax cut for fat cats.”
Lately, though, his tone has been more positive. “I love a flat tax,” he said in August.
This fucker is impossible to pin down. Thank goodness someone at the Times has a decent memory. Perhaps Mitt is looking in his rearview and seeing that Mr. Pizza is closer than he appears. He should have more courage, ignore others’ positions and run on his record, but what we see seems to show what Mitt truly is-an empty-suit by definition that will say just about anything he needs to say in order to win this fucking nomination. He’ll get the nod, but Obama is going to kick the shit out of him with aplomb. There will be no shortage of ammunition for the President to use. Expect flip-flop sales to spike.
Is it possible that a ‘serious’ candidate for the GOP nomination is waffling on the Birther issue. Why, yes it is, kids:
Governor, do you believe that President Barack Obama was born in the United States?
I have no reason to think otherwise.
That’s not a definitive, “Yes, I believe he”—
Well, I don’t have a definitive answer, because he’s never seen my birth certificate.
(What the fuck is this statement supposed to even mean?)
But you’ve seen his.
I don’t know. Have I?
You don’t believe what’s been released?
I don’t know. I had dinner with Donald Trump the other night.
That came up.
And he said?
He doesn’t think it’s real.
And you said?
I don’t have any idea. It doesn’t matter. He’s the President of the United States. He’s elected. It’s a distractive issue.
Rick Perry knows he needs that bottom-fed, no-information voter that still won’t accept the President as an American. So, he throws out this ugly chum to them. I smell desperation in the winds. Ricky knows he’s in second place, and he is searching high and low for scumbag support. What exactly do you know, Rick? That is an awful lot of denial in that paragraph. Pathetic.
Update: Even Rove is screaming shut the fuck up about this.
Update 2: Rick says ‘it’s fun to poke‘ at Obama this way. Are we on a playground?
Update 3: Haley Barbour echoes Rove.
Finally, we get to watch the plug pulled on Herman Cain, but Black Walnut isn’t going down without a yelp for help:
“In a couple of instances … I misspoke because of the pace of the interview. I don’t call it a flip-flop. I’d rather come back and explain to people what I really meant,” Cain said Friday after an economic speech in Detroit. “It doesn’t send mixed messages. It just shows that I’m willing to correct myself … if in fact I need to correct myself for clarity. That’s what I’m trying to achieve.”
Herb, you don’t even get to flip-flop status when you just say whatever crazy shit comes into your head. You don’t even get to say you have sent mixed messages when you have come off like a joker, some clown prince of stupid that is immune to scrutiny. I think we have reached, finally, the peak of Cain as a contender, going the way of Bachmann eventually. I just have to wait for his staff to start quitting and then I’ll know we have rid ourselves of this looney toon that actually wants to run my country. It looks like Romney is the man, for better or for worse to the conservatives. He is more than willing to say whatever he needs to say, runs a tight game, and has billions in his coffers to make it happen. Fair enough, Mitt. You vs. Obama. I still think this next election is going to be a slaughter, with little chunks of Mitt in Obama’s teeth, but we just have to wait and wait again so we can watch the real carnage start.
“Abortion should not be legal, that is clear. But if that family made a decision to break the law, that’s that family’s decision, that’s all I’m trying to say,” he said.
CNN’s Piers Morgan asked Cain Wednesday about his view on abortion in the case of rape. “It ultimately gets down to a choice that that family or that mother has to make. Not me as president, not some politician, not a bureaucrat. It gets down to that family. And whatever they decide, they decide. I shouldn’t have to tell them what decision to make for such a sensitive issue,” he said. In the same interview, he said he believes life begins at conception, and that he does not believe in abortion under any circumstances.
If you are dizzy from trying to understand that wad of gibberish, you are not alone. It is in no way clear that abortion shouldn’t be legal. He has stated he will use activist judges and whatever else the Presidential office will allow to overturn Roe. But then Cain wants to dial back his approach and say by default, it’s ok for people to seek an abortion if it is that persons’ choice.
I’m tired of trying to explain this guy. He’s an idiot, and I have no idea why he is so popular.
Aren’t they gone yet? Amazon says they are. Here’s their song that has me all upset:
Perhaps this is one of those moments where you begin to back away from your media because you’ve outgrown it. It starts out all-too clever with the nonsense lyrics and Beatle feel-which is why you are listening to Oasis, otherwise you are a schmo.
Then Liam starts asking some really dumbass questions/interjections, like
Maybe I just want to fly
I want to live I don’t want to die
Maybe I just want to breath
Maybe I just don’t believe
Maybe you’re the same as me
We see things they’ll never see
You and I are gonna live forever
Oh, fuck off already. Anyone who has lived past 35 is dimly aware that their life is a ball of shit and no one wants it to go on forever, especially stuck with one person for the whole of it. Does anyone believe that a little nebbish like Liam Gallagher would do it?I suppose it isn’t fair to pick on Oasis for this stupid songwriting, considering they did it 25 years ago and are a little older than I am. The point is, life is harder than death. I’m finally convinced that I will die quietly and quickly, in fact I promise it. My wife’s mother was actually quite cross with her father for hanging on as long as he did. Bearing this is in mind, it’s OK to go, you weren’t gonna fly, you weren’t gonna live forever, you will see everything everyone else sees and there is nothing special about your trip that you will miss. It’s life. “That’s life!” say the comedians, telling the truth as always. I’m almost 40 and most of my time will be dedicated to taking statins and turning into a sea lion, yelling at my kids, and generally being the GDI that I have been to my wife for so long.
Maybe, I don’t really wanna know,
how my life just blows, cause I just wanna cry
I’d much rather be this guy from over the pond instead:
Sometimes, you can get a hit on your blog by just being on the first page in a Google search. This is not how you’d like to get them, but accept we must. Here are two of my latest:
Erin Burnett boobs: you will never see Burnett unclothed here. That is sexist and lowbrow. If by chance you do find them, send me a link and I will verify them.
Can idiots die in space?: Everyone, feeble and sound, would have their breath taken at some point were they simply tossed into space. I have spoken about this before. Maybe the idiot would hold his breath, hoping he will not die and become one of those things that vacuum seal your old clothes to put them under the bed.
There. I hope I have answered some questions, and gotten more hits because of them.
I better get it all down before I forget. It all sounds like something besides mania but everyone insists that it is merely a manifestation of my disorder. If you’re new here, I went “away” for a while during a complete nervous breakdown. Strange things happened to me in the psych ward I will never understand.
It sounds like schizophrenia to me, or sheer psychosis. It isn’t the kind of manic that sends you out making purchases, or flitting about sexually. It was the kind of fugue-like thing that you associate with true full-bull crazy instead of these “episodes’. I can understand an episode. They’re easy to spot now. What I can’t explain is:
Why I thought I was Allah. I would roll around somersaulting in my room in a pseudo-judo manner, gathering my power from the dust on the floor. I would “ward” off evil coming from other areas of the psycho ward with arm motions, as if I were pushing them away with mighty power.
Now no party with Allah would be complete without a visit from the Muslim Brotherhood, right? So I decided that they were there to change Martin Luther King Day into some other holiday, god knows what. I swear I heard or hallucinated one of the orderlies saying “ain’t gonna be no more Martin Luther King day no more”. Nurses who were in on the plan glared at me or nodded to me in understanding of our idea.
I had a whole list of characters in there. I had Satan there, a schizophrenic who said he was a druid. I decided he was Satan because of a big crater of a scar right between his eyes above his forehead. He did not deny he was Satan, and I recommended that he “take it a little easier on people from now on” and he agreed as long as he was equal to me, God, Allah, whatever I thought I was. I said sure, just know who really runs the roost. Satan especially likes snack time, by the way, so in case you do go to a hell, ensure you are buried with graham crackers.
The saints came marching in. I believed that St. John and St. Timothy had come, largely due to their names. One of their names was actually St. John, and shared my first name. As God, it should surprise no one that my apocalyptic soothsayer St. John and I developed a keen friendship, feeding each others’ absurd paranoia about the agenda of the ward. I disconnected routers that I thought were microphones just for fun. We cracked a lot of jokes in the lunch room, until he thought the government was chasing him for an attempted plots against Janet Reno among others. And I had something to do with it because my wife had sent me into stir with a copy of Howard Zinn’s History of the American People, in graphic novel form. Nice book. Lost it.
I believed that black supremacists, Mansonites and Indian rights advocates were imprisoned with me. I believed that every time I got on the exercise bike, a car blew up in the parking lot, furthering my great plan. I thought a poor psychotic in a diaper might be my son, and tormented a poor unfortunate nurse who I believed was my ex-wife. I saw wendigos. I felt we were in the land of the dead at some point in that unit, waiting to be returned to life. I thought we might be on a giant spaceship that would unlock itself from the hospital and was certain I had an important role on the bridge. I thought I was jumping over the international day line. Hell, I even thought relatives were there-my dad, my dead Aunt Peg, and my real mother who I thought was Warhol ingenue Edie Sedgewick. Prisoner that I was, I arranged in weeds “SOS” in the hopes that someone would see us and release us during outside time.
This isn’t bipolar disorder. This is the thinking of a complete loon. I am still in disagreement with my doctor and wife on what happened to me in those weeks I spent there. I’ll let others make the call, but I remain unconvinced that I was acting like a bipolar. I probably won’t go that crazy again, reflecting on those terrifying three weeks. But it’s in me. It’s part of me. I don’t know how it happened, and probably never will.